Soba, Ghosts and Black Yukatas
by charmed-sword
Summary: Will be a series of Saitou oneshots in chronological order. Featuring his interactions with Shinsengumi, ghosts, and a soba cooking waitress named Tokio.


_Disclaimer: Peacemaker belongs to...people! Yes! People who are fortunately not me._

_Okay, I really felt like writing a PMK Saitou story. Initially it was just a oneshot...but then along came Tokio, and I decided to expand this. Yes. A collection of Saitou oneshots. Featuring his interaction with the Shinsengumi, with the enemy, and with Tokio-dono, who is definitely not the historical version, and well..._

_This is mostly for my amusement. Maybe it will amuse you as well. o0_

-------

**Soba, Ghosts and Black Yukatas**

------

"You're bothering me again," said Saitou languidly one afternoon as he sat in the back corner of an inn, enjoying the only food that satisfied him---soba. His movements were precise, a graceful flick of the wrist that allowed him to shove the hot noodles into his mouth without dripping it all over the front of his favourite black yukata, or making any of those disgusting slurping sounds.

Indeed, after years of effort, his soba technique was just as perfect as his swordsmanship, and to Hajime Saitou, they were of equal importance.

"You're so rude!" exclaimed the squat and miserable looking man sitting cross legged across from him. "It's just my luck after all. Everyone hated me when I was alive, and I'm still hated when I'm dead." He wiped at his eyes. "Woe is me! I would rather not exist at all."

His companion sighed, putting down his bowl and chopsticks. He rested his hands in his lap.

"Yamada-san," he began, unsuccessfully trying to hide the boredom in his voice. "You have already visited me three times today. First, you interrupted my sleep. Then you interrupted my bath. And while I was in the middle of disposing of a Choshu, you appeared before me and caused me to slice him across the shoulder, which was not what I intended."

Yamada folded his arms and harrumphed as he turned his head away. "I don't see how that would make you hold a grudge against me. You did dispose of the man after all."

"Yes," answered Saitou as he reached for his bowl again. "But I disposed of him in _two_ strokes. And I like doing it in one. Requires less effort on my part."

"Warriors today," sniffed Yamada. "They have no passion for what they do. Why in my day, it didn't matter how much effort it took. I used to slice a man as many times as needed to make sure he died! I made the effort! I took pride in making the eff---"

"---Because you weren't a very good swordsman," interrupted Saitou patiently. "And that's why you died and were sliced into several interesting pieces yourself."

"Well _I_ was a samurai," the ghost shot back, holding his pudgy head high. "Not a dirty ronin like yourself!"

Saitou raised his eyebrows. "If you don't like this dirty ronin, Yamada-san, then do us both the favour of disappearing."

The chubby samurai looked at him indignantly, and was about to retort, when they were interrupted by a loud and rather girlish voice.

"Hajime! Heyyyy!"

Yamada disdainfully watched the loathesome newcomer as he made his way over to their table. With raised eyebrows, he observed the man's long untied hair, and the animal in his arms. Here was another of the warriors of today he so detested.

Saitou he could put up with, because he was one of the only people who could see him. But this one...this one just infuriated him. He, who was disliked while he was alive, because of his so called mannerisms, and yet this one---who acted most unmanly and had a pig for a pet--- was allowed to roam the streets as a protector of the peace?

Yamada shook his head and let out a sad and exaggerated sigh. How the times had changed.

Saitou stifled a chuckle as his Shinsengumi comrade seated himself on the tatami that the ghost was sitting on. The former samurai looked outraged as he disappeared behind Okita. "How dare you!" he shouted, shaking his transparent fist. "Disrespecting your elders! Why you..."

_What a fool, _thought Saitou. _Raging on as though Souji could hear him...The things I have to put up with._

"Hello," said Okita with a smile, completely unaware of the spiritual presence cursing him. "I hoped I'd find you here!"

"And I hoped you wouldn't," came Saitou's toneless reply.

Okita giggled as he stroked Saizou's head and looked around the inn. "Well, I _would_," he began in a thoughtful voice. "This is the only inn in the whole of Kyoto that looks so uninviting on the outside, and almost always quiet on the inside. So I figured you'd be here."

"Tell him to get off me!" cried Yamada, tugging at his bushy topknot in frustration. "Just because I'm dead, it doesn't mean people can sit on me! _Hajime!_ Don't forget the number of times I've helped you!"

"And also," Okita continued, leaning forward, "I hear the usual people who frequent here are loners, creeps and weirdos." He smiled wickedly. "So I thought Hajime-san would be at home here."

"Yes," replied Saitou pleasantly. "And that's why little girls like you should be careful in this neighbourhood."

Okita shook his head, chuckling. "If I tell Hijikata-san how terribly wounded that comment leaves me, he will surely find a way to make you pay."

"I'm leaving!" Yamada declared irritably. "If you're going to ignore me, Hajime, well then I'm not going to bother you ever again!" With a crack, the spirit disappeared.

"Finally," Saitou murmured. "I would deal with a dark shadow any day, than a foolish one like him."

Okita blinked at him curiously from above the menu he was reading. "Hmmm?"

Saitou shrugged, smirking. "Just a spirit. He was asking me who the pretty girl is."

The smirk died on his face as Okita calmly grabbed the bowl of soba and dumped it over his head.

--------

"Thank you Tokio-dono," said Saitou expressionlessly as the young waitress towelled his locks in a back room.

She had been a great help, getting the noodles out, and washing his hair, but he had never felt more annoyed and even, embarrassed inside. This was the first time he was talking to her, and he was thanking her for getting soba out of his hair, he thought with some irritation.

Though nobody knew, (and he would never let them) Saitou didn't just like this specific inn for its soba. He also happened to like coming here because of Tokio-dono, the innkeeper's daughter. Women didn't interest him as much as say Sanosuke, or Todou, but there was definitely something about this one.

She wasn't a head turner-- Saitou didn't see any other men noticing her in the way he did, (which was a good thing he decided) but she was just..._captivating. _

Her soft smile as she welcomed customers, the way she hummed when she swept the floors...and how you could tell she was genuinely nterested when people told her stories. She didn't put on airs like other girls. She might not be from a wealthy family, but she had a certain dignity that was admirable in Saitou's eyes.

In all the weeks he had been coming to the inn, he had each time discovered something new that he liked about her. There was the way she tied her brown hair into a high loose bun, with long strands framing her face, and the way it bobbed when she laughed with customers. He _even_ liked the glasses she wore when she was calculating prices and writing up menus. And more importantly, there was the way she cooked soba. What could be more enchanting?

"There," said Tokio at last, putting aside the towel and standing to the side to admire her work. "Your hair should smell like jasmine now!"

She picked up the tin of perfume soaps, and studied the back with a pleased expression.

A wry smile crossed Saitou's face as he stood and began tying his hair back into it's ponytail. "Jasmine? That's definitely a first for me."

"Well..." Tokio said thoughtfully as she tilted her head to the side. "_You_ may have personally preferred the soba smell..."

Saitou's cheeks coloured as she let out a giggle. It was true that was all he ever ordered when he came here. Yet Tokio was joking with him as if she knew him very well. And they had never even spoken, besides a hello and goodbye. Saitou always assumed it was because he didn't look very approachable, or maybe it was because she was seldom taking orders whenever he chose to walk through the fusama door. Ghosts and shadows were easier to understand than women, in his opinion.

"Well, goodbye Tokio-dono," he said politely, tucking his sword into his obi as he made towards the exit, a part of him already focused on finding Souji and exacting his revenge. A very large part of him, in fact. However, the waitress stepped in front of him, her brow furrowed, and holding her breath so hard she looked like she might explode. Saitou might have been alarmed if he hadn't been so surprised.

"Er..Tokio-dono?"

"I'msorryforoffendingyou!"

The words came out in such a rush, that Saitou had some trouble processing them.

Tokio misinterpreted the expression on his face. Her cheeks turned red. "I mean, have I offended you? If I have, I really am very sorry." She bowed low.

"You haven't," answered Saitou, feeling a little uncomfortable. "What would make you think that?"

Tokio blushed some more. "Well it's just ...you're leaving so suddenly. Don't you want another bowl of soba? Since you didn't finish the other one...I'll give it to you for free." She smiled brightly, hands in the pockets of her flowery and very worn looking apron.

Saitou was confused. She wanted him to stay? What for? Because she thought he was upset over his half eaten noodles? That was it? She was just being kind?

He sighed inwardly. Why would he think otherwise? It's not as though he was a very interesting person. He didn't even look awake most of the time, although he couldn't help that the world was rather boring to him. He supposed it was because of his knowledge and interaction with the spiritual realm. And if she found out about that...well she'd probably think he was even weirder.

It was obvious to him. There was no way a cute and funny and talented soba cooking girl like her would fall for a boring weirdo like him. It was the harsh reality.

"Thank you Tokio-dono," he said with a strained smile. "But I must be going."

He inclined his head, and left.

Tokio watched him go, and with a small sigh, went back to sweeping the floors.

_--------_


End file.
